


Only Us

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 04:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It's been years since Dean has been home for the holidays. A new place, a mostly-fresh start, and a new traditions just might start to change that.





	Only Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BleedingInk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/gifts).



> Dedicated to the lovely BleedingInk for the SPN Rare Pair Gift Exchange 2017! It was tons of fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it too! Almost definitely going to add on in the future, and might just have a few connecting pieces in the works. Anyhow, Happy Holidays!

"That's pathetic."

Clad in a pair of sweatpants and an old Stanford shirt of Dean's (from back when Sam was away at school) Jo stared down the Christmas tree plopped crookedly in the corner of their tiny apartment living room, a dusting of needles sprinkled around the shag carpet. It was still a little snowy, though most of it had already melted, making the tree glisten just so. Okay, it was a little sad, but maybe pathetic was harsh. Dean certainly seemed to think so, scoffing at the criticism. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, stooping over to straighten up his haul.

"Well excuse me, princess, but it's a little hard to find a Christmas tree at the tail end of Christmas Eve. This might surprise you, but most normal people do this kind of thing a little earlier."

They had been working out the last details of a case, despite the fact that they had decided to take a break. It was for a friend, it was easy, and it had promised to be quick. And it had been all of those things, for the most part. But they hadn't factored in a more normal issue that had threatened to keep them from being home at Christmas- nearly incapacitating traffic on Interstate 5. Their freelancing, poor planning, and monstrous traffic meant that by the time they had arrived home, it was three a.m. on Christmas Eve and they hadn't a stitch of decorations. The only festive decor that might qualify on a lenient day was the snow weighing on the scraggly trees outside their windows. Neither member of the pair had enough energy to do anything but fall into bed in varying states of undress and sleep.

Dean had decided when he had woken, right around eight p.m., that the decidedly drab state of their apartment wasn't going to cut it, not for their first Christmas in their own place, together. The apartment was part of their pact to settle down, to take some much needed and possibly indefinite time off. Stepping back from the life was easier said than done, but aside from their pre-Christmas foray back into work, they had truly begun to settle. Picked out a pre-war, one bedroom outside of Chicago, maybe not in the greatest part of town, but it was nice enough and they could both hold their own. Even if Dean did have the tendency to baby Jo when she would let him (or when he just couldn't help himself and he was feeling stubborn). It had been unspoken, but they had decided they would make the place their home, not just a place they crashed between jobs or late nights out. The first one up, Dean was going to get them started. And his first order of business had been to get the center piece of their holiday- a tree.

He had dressed hastily once his decision was made and forayed out into the blustery evening to find them the makings of a civilian holiday. One trip to the 24-hour drugstore around the corner, a stop at the curb, and a little duck tape later, and Dean was ready for the blonde's verdict. Which so far was underwhelming, but he was going to let it go. He would just have to get her into the spirit of things.

"Nobody said that you had to bring that pitiful thing in here." Jo pointed out, the start of a smile tugging at her lips, though she struggled against letting it get too wide. It would take some of the fun out of ragging on him. "Is a tree really that big a deal to you?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow as she regarded her boyfriend, arms crossed.

"'course. Figured it's our first Christmas here, and we pay enough for the damn place for it to deserve a couple of decent Christmas traditions. Can't do that without a tree," he replied matter-of-factly, to which Jo softened ever so slightly. "What's that supposed to mean? You told me that two years ago, you and Sam celebrated with skin mags and car oil in a motel in Missouri. But we need tradition?"

Dean stepped forward, taking the woman by the shoulders and regarding her with thinly veiled adoration even as she vaguely frustrated him. Leave it to Jo to want to rough it even when they didn't have to. "Six months, remember? Six months of normal, six months of this, six months of...new traditions. Alright? At least humor me. Just for tonight, for like, a little while. Please."

The request came out so sincerely hopeful that Jo couldn't easily deny him. And so she didn't, rolling her eyes but uncrossing her arms in apparent surrender. "Fine. What kind of tradition are we talking about? Baking cookies or something?" she asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing as Dean approached, a grin wide across his face. His arms slid around her waist even as she leaned just slightly away to keep her eyes locked on his. "Because I know you thought that me triggering the fire alarm for the entire building during breakfast last week was hilarious, but I'm going to make your death slow and painful if you make me do it again in the name of getting all sentimental." Dean's expression turned sheepish, his shoulders rising only to fall again in a shrug. He hadn't actually thought much further than the cheap garland he had taped around the flat, and the icicle-laden spruce on the floor behind him.

"I was actually kind of hoping you would have them. Considering I'm sure you and your parents must have had something growing up. The only thing I've got is giving actual gifts and doing eggnog shots," he admitted. "But wait," he began again, looking to head off a protest he could see coming. They had gotten to know each other a whole lot better after spending the better part of the last year and a half together; Dean could tell when he was about to earn himself an especially up hill battle, "that's all I'm askin' for. Before you say you don't know or it's dumb, this is what I want for Christmas. One measly Christmas tradition. I mean it." He insisted, drawing her in closer as he earned himself another eye roll. Jo should have seen it coming when she walked into the room, the start of that beggar's look he had nailed down already at the ready.

Jo guessed she couldn't really argue with that. Or she could, but maybe there were some fights not worth winning. "Fine," she conceded, pushing him back enough to raise a hand, a single finger raised. "One. But it's going to be my choice, like you said. No complaining, or asking for another one. And this probably will have to be your gift," she went on, losing what little edge she had had as she lowered her hand, "at least for now, considering I entirely forgot to pick your actual gift up. So you have to love whatever I pick," she announced, listing off her terms. "Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah. Got it. Now what's it gonna be? Shit, I forgot to say it can't be anything that involves actual cash or alcohol, since I gave the guy who gave me the tree off the curb the rum for the eggnog. So I guess that means the eggnog shots are canned too," Dean replied, his thoughts running on. Luckily Jo knew enough not to give him a chance to keep following the train.

"Done? Or did you change your mind about my tradition and just want to spend the rest of the night explaining everything you gave away?"

"Oh shut up and pick. Please," came Dean's humored reply.

It took Jo a half a minute and a minor debate before the glint of the streetlight off the sun out the window gave her the minor inspiration she needed. "Snow angels."

"That the best you can come up with, Harvelle?" Dean teased, but was quickly cut off by the blonde hushing him to clarify. "Summer snow angels. Like you get on shorts, I'll...I don't know, find something like that and...snow angels."

If there was anything Dean loved it was the snow, but God did he hate the cold. But the prospect of a challenge was enough to spur him on. He could run with snow angels. Especially when Jo actually looked like she was having fun with the idea. This was what he wanted.

"How bout this- snow angels for as long as you can handle it. And it's gotta be twenty degrees out," he estimated, running his tongue along his bottom lip for a fleeting moment as he considered the possibilities. "First one who cracks and goes in has to make Christmas dinner. How 'bout it?"

What had she gotten herself into?

Jo never could resist a direct challenge.

"Fine. Last one out has to lose their flip-flops." They'd be lucky if they didn't lose their apartment, running out into the snow dressed like lunatics, she thought to herself as he leaned in and kissed her, soft and short and smiling into the motion of affection.

Fifteen minutes later and Jo was wondering when she was going to learn to back down. Dean had stripped down to nothing but a pair of star-stamped swim trunks and a pair of knock-off RayBans, while she had found a long tank top and a pair of boxer shorts, her hair tied up in a ponytail like that would keep it from mess of white on the ground. Neither lost a moment's time despite the hysterical, embarrassed laughter that came on; the sooner they got to the task at hand, the sooner the other could lose.

Two minutes in and Dean hadn't been so ridiculously cold or as ridiculously, near-completely at ease since was a kid, not like this. Even in twenty-odd inches of snow with a lake effect breeze, the two of them cursing and screaming and flailing about making what must have the ugliest snow angels imaginable. This was everything he wanted, out there shivering like nobodies business while the warm light from their third floor apartment spilled across the grass and walkway of the sagging apartment building. This was joy, this was safety, this was pain born of the simplest fun, this was that four letter word he still had trouble choking out. This was home; it had been a while, but the package of it together...yeah, this was home. Freezing his ass off in the name of tradition and trying to get a smile out of Jo for Christmas.

The moment of overwhelming hilarity had barely passed before she decided pneumonia might permanently ruin things. She would be the bigger person.

Jo swore loudly, sitting up and wrapping her arms tight around herself, her shirt sticking to her skin, hair plastered to the sides of her face from when she had taken the hair tie out of it. "Tie. God, please, a tie. In the name of Christmas or something. And we can make a freaking hot shower a tradition too. In the name of not getting hypothermia. If you don't make me beg, there might just be a spot in there for you too."

Scrambling to his feet at the first sounds of surrender (whether she would admit that was what it was or not), Dean was making a run for the door before she could make a move. They knew each other far too well. Home it was.


End file.
